He Died a Traitor
by SongoftheDarquePhoenix
Summary: Severus Snape has nothing left to live for. The war is over and the light has won. A traitor's final moments. Written Pre DH, AU ending.


_**He died a traitor.  
By: Song**_

_A/U: I know that Severus is slightly OoC, but understand that he has nothing left. This is the end of the war._

_Also: I don't own dear Severus. I wish I did, but this right belongs to JKR. _

_Summary: Severus Snape has nothing left to live for. The war is over and the light has won. A traitor's final moments. Written Pre DH, HBP spoilers._

_Words of advice: Not all adversaries are evil. Some are simply the scape goats. A way to release anger and hatred. Life cannot be replaced. We are who we can be, but we shape the world around us as well._

* * *

There. It was over. _Harry_, the love of his life's son, his arch rival's child, had won. But at a cost.

Bodies, all around him. Blood. Death. Heartbreak. Everywhere.

Tom was _dead_.

_His '_master_' was _**dead.**

But many had payed with their life.

Including the only people that had _ever_ loved him. Even _**liked **_him.

Hogwarts was in front of him, sagging from its previous glory. Onyx eyes searched the grounds for the grave of his mentor; the man he had killed. A marble tomb that encased the broken body of Albus Dumbledore, the leader of the light, was not far away. _He_ had killed Albus. Because _Albus_ asked  
him to.

The marble white tomb of his mentor sat in a shaded paddock of the Hogwarts grounds- invisible to anyone who was not looking for it. Life was such a special thing. The only thing nothing, even magic could replace. Marveling at the irony of it all. Magic- life's force, died with it. The soul was a fragile thing, and yet it was stronger than anything of this earth. It could be ripped apart, and still hold the weight of the world. It could be torn from this inside out, and yet still comfort those around it.

Going to pay his respects to the man he murdered, he stopped. _**The man he murdered.**_ The thought seemed to foreign to him. He had killed before- it came with his 'job'. But he had murdered. Murdered. He was a murderer. Falling to his knees furiously wiped a tear from his hallowed face.. So much had been lost. So much death. So much sorrow. So little life.

Where was the happily ever after that everyone raved about?

Not all stories have happy endings. This was something that he had known his whole life. He just never thought that _this_ story would have that ending.

As one wise muggle (even _muggles_ have more wisdom than wizards) once said, War determines not who is right, but who is left.' Neither of the sides were 'right' or 'wrong'. It has to do with preconceived perceptions, and hatred for anything different. It was all just a giant game of chess. But  
life was the cost, not some ridiculous charmed pieces of rock. He found himself draped across the marble stone, dispar wracking the long frozen emotions of a broken man.

His hands shook on the corner of the stone, gasping like a child to their parent. In a sense the old headmaster _had_ been his father, a father that the lost little boy never had. The man that had made him live- had asked him to kill. And so he did. He did. It was matter of debt. Take the life that had helped him live. Live... he would want him to _live_ again. But life belongs to the living- a thing he had left long ago.

The Whomping Willow still sat in solitude on a hill, the remains of Hagrid's cabin no more than rubble, the forbidden forest still loomed around him. The differences were subtle, but they were still there. To the trained eye one could tell that there was no /life/ in this place. The grounds sang of happiness, mocking him. Mocking the sorrow, mocking the world. They went about their ways, automatically- serving their purpose, doing what needed to be done. He had no place in the world. He had nothing. The castle towered above him, casting her shadow about him.

A phoenix cried the last of his quavering notes; the last of the song. In a burst of flame above a single fiery feather floated down among the ashes raining down to him.

Taking the feather from the air, the dark man marveled at how, even in death, his mentor wanted him to be happy. Even if it was only to win a war.

All _he_** ever** wanted was reposition.

But the war was over now. He could do anything he pleased.

He entered the castle for the last time, black robes billowing behind him, sweeping down the halls of the school. The grace in which he strode held a certain finality to it, an air of grim satisfaction. At last the door was in front of him. With a swish of his wand the wards were lifted and he entered the chambers. Just as he had left it. The dreary rooms seemed to reflect his purpose, his private potions store adjacent to him. Shakily pale hands opened the creaking old door, pulling out a single clear vial of liquid. Its beauty outshone everything, even though he had though about this vial many times before. A true piece of art. An irreversible poison. Adding the final igreediant, the feather, the potion flared an erudecent green, eerily like the spell that had inspired it, finally settling to a cool golden tone. Perhaps a milliliter in volume, a single drop was enough to kill a dragon. A sad smile stretched muscles that had not been used in over 20 years.

No one to stop him.

No one to 'save' him.

Nobody cared.

He drowned the bleak little vial and laid down on the bed. The world was  
cruel.

He was sick of being used. Sick of being a pawn. Sick of not having a choice. Sick of not knowing. Sick of everything. There was no 'happily ever after' in life. It was to much... to much. The light at the end of the darkness was so dim now. Life was not worth wait.

Eyes closed as sleep brushed his brow, deaths graceful wings bringing him peace. It was true, if he had not made certain decisions the war might have ended different, but the past was the past.

With no will to live, Severus Snape died in the cold darkness of his dungeons- not a soul knowing, or caring, he was gone. A scape goat. He had fofilled his fate- he had repaid his debts, and now he was finally at peace.Not remembered as an the amazing youngest potions master ever. Not remembered as the soul double agent for the light. Not even remembered as a friend. No, Severus Snape died as a traitor. A traitor. A traitor. Chanted by fate. Over and over, again and again. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. He died a traitor. He died a traitor as he had lived one. A traitor for the light. But he was _free_. Free of life, free of hate, free of darkness, and free of fate. At peace and _finally_ free.

* * *

_I believe that I have captured the dispar of war in this accurately. We effect those around us, much like the Marauders did to Severus. I think that things would have turned out different if they had though first. We influence everyone, weather for the better or for worse. Please think about how your actions will affect someone else. I know that if people in my life acted different towards me, I would be a different person. I have learned many a lesson because of a bad choice on someone else, or my part. Again, I ask, Please think about your actions.  
It can change the world. _

_Thank you for reading, and please review._

_Song_


End file.
